


Dark Curses and Deadly Breakers

by LilyCarmenBlack



Series: THE CURSE BREAKER SERIES [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1970s, Character Death, Curse Breakers, Curse Breaking, F/M, Family Feels, Hags, IRA - Freeform, Muggle-Ireland, Post-Marauders' Era, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyCarmenBlack/pseuds/LilyCarmenBlack
Summary: When Margret O'Fae was a child she had a lot of freedom and not just because her environment was considered safer, for her home back in Ireland was known to be quite violent in the 1970s thanks to the IRA and their bombings, but because her most of her generation had at least several somewhat peaceful years before the storm began.





	Dark Curses and Deadly Breakers

 

  

**1970**

* * *

**'My mother groaned, my father wept,**  
**into the dangerous world I leapt.'**  
**― William Blake**

* * *

**November the 29th**

Molly stared out of the kitchen window, her dark eyes landing on the rising branches of the orchard. Dusk had fallen low over the Burrow, and Weasley's large home basked in its warm light. The Tudor building sat beside a pigpen, the large window overlooking the small Muggle village and the rolling countryside. From Molly's chair, she could just see the rooftop of Mr and Mrs Lovegood's home — the two, although eccentric in their own right, had been a wonderful but strange pair at Hogwarts. While Pandora had bonded with Molly over their love of charms, it had been Xenophilius Lovegood who had eventually snagged the blonde haired beauty in the end.

Smiling Molly closed her eyes. She and Arthur had decorated their home rather well, and with the secret finances from her Uncle Ignatius, the small family of two — almost three — had managed to make a life for themselves. With magic and a little elbow grease, Molly and Arthur Weasley had transformed the creaky building into a wonderful home filled with love, kindness and hope, that they almost forgot about the troubles that were beginning to brew.

But something tugged at the back of Molly's mind, and although she may have sat in her rocking chair, covering her swollen belly with her hand, she couldn't help but worry as the wireless wavered behind her. Something was happening in the North — Muggles were dying, women were being raped and children were left orphans in a world that barely knew them. The Wizarding World was slowly seeping through cracks, leaking into the Muggle world like water, that her husband barely had time to keep up. At twenty years of age Molly felt helpless, and although she loved her child, she sometimes wished she hadn't fallen pregnant with it just yet. Something was coming, she could feel it in her bones, and as long as the witch had lived, her bones had never lied.

The child kicked her belly, it's tiny feet begging to be let out.

'Hush little one,' Molly said, smiling softly as the sun's warm light twinkled against the pans hanging behind her. 'Your father will be back soon,'

Life had not gone smoothly the day Molly had married Arthur, for her parents, Gordon and Wilma Prewett, had lost not only one child, but all three. Fabian and Gideon had looked at each other, their dark eyes darkening at their parents' angered expressions and before the house elf could stop them, the two had stormed out of their father's manor. With all three children disowned, Gordon and Wilma had turned cold and sour, refusing to meet their children's gaze. Surprisingly, Molly's great-aunt Muriel had turned up for the couple's wedding; she blessed them, kissed Molly's head and before the young witch could thank her, the elderly woman had hobbled away, her eyes glancing suspiciously at her nephew Ignatius and his lovely wife Lucretia.

Molly sighed as the wireless flickered back and forth between the news and static. Raising her wand, the signal fell silent and Molly was left with the quiet pattering of the wind's lonely feet. She rubbed her belly again and rose to her feet, her eyes fixed on the grey clouds that rattled across the sky. She frowned. The wireless had said nothing about rain.

Suddenly, the witch felt something shift, as if someone was trying to break into the wards that encased the house. Molly's wand sparked as she clutched the wood firmly in her grasp, her hands shaking as a loud, boom rattled the picture frames. Five loud cracks snapped across the orchard, and the witch quickly rose to her feet; she backed into a wooden pillar, pressing her body close to the wall in case the intruders saw her.

From the corner of her eye, Molly noticed that the people who had invaded her home were dressed in black, their faces were hidden by long hoods and evil looking masks, but it was the man who stood as the leader that made her heart stop; it was her father. Why and how she knew, the witch would never know but it was something about they way the masked man stood, his wand raised in the sky, that made her skin crawl.

_Why were they here?..._

_Were they here to kill her?..._

_Rape her?..._

_Steal her child before it was fully born?..._

_Or even worse, kill her baby?..._

Molly's heart leapt. What could she do? Quickly, the witch hobbled down to the front door. She locked it, sidling the lock into place and hurried towards the kitchen, hand on her belly. But Molly was not naive, for she knew that the door would barely hold when the men pounded on her door, blasting it to smithereens as they came it.

She did not have to wait long.

Molly was barely her smoking fireplace when the robed men burst through the door. Jets of red light shot above her head, and Molly ducked, pulling her skirts over her feet as the vase — a late wedding present from Pandora — exploded. A small whimper left her lips as she covered her face with her hands, the sharp glass cutting deep into her hands.

Another light erupted around her, but before it could hit her, Molly's right arm slashed in a downwards motion, and a cry left her lips:

'PROTEGO!'

A sheen of magic exploded from her wand, and the warm hug of a bluish protective shield suddenly erupted between Molly and her attachers. But even as the witch rose to her feet, her wand protecting her belly as she faced her attackers, the shield began to flicker.

Gritting her teeth, the witch deeper down into the courage she supposedly had and pointed her wand at the first cloaked man who stepped through the protective shields. Her wand glowed a bright green, and a second later, the man's head was swelling up to the side of a large beach ball. He dropped his wand, face turning a bright purple as he tried to push his head back to its normal side. Molly grinned a little — that spell had always been her favourite.

But her smile fell when her father stepped forward. Her face darkened when he removed his mask, revealing his red hair and dark eyes. Molly licked her lips — she had been right.

'Molly,' his whispered, arms extended as if he was about to hug her. 'There is no need to fight. We just want to talk.'

'Like I'd want to talk to you!' Molly hissed, eyes raging. 'You broke my door!'

She raised her wand again, throwing several spells at the wizards as they backed her slowly into a corner. One man suddenly flew up into the air, his body floating in mid air and an invisible force held him by his ankle. Molly didn't even flinch as the man screamed as she whipped him across the room. He smashed head first into the stove top, eyes rolling. Another man was suddenly doused in a hot-sticky substance that caused him to yelp in pain and jump around like a rabbit. Spells flew over her head as she spun, pushing the table over. It slammed into the stone ground, cracking the marble that lay before her. She ducked behind it so that it created a shield between her and the wizards.

'That was a misunderstanding,' Gordon Prewett said, stopping his fellow wizards as they tried to get to Molly, their faces either bloody or red with anger.

'That's bloody likely!' Molly hissed, throwing more spells at the approaching wizards. 'Who do you work for anyway, father? Hmm? I'd like to know?'

'We are the Death Eaters,' a man hissed.

Molly couldn't help but laugh — but deep down, she was absolutely terrified.

'You mean you belong to that madman?' she spluttered. 'Are you his bodyguards?'

Molly's father suddenly laughed, his voice scratching across the kitchen like glass.

'Oh my daughter,' he said, his voice suddenly closer, 'you have always had a knack for talking back!'

Molly screamed as a sharp-nailed hand dug into her shoulder and her father pulled her out from behind the kitchen table. The witch bit kicked and scratched as the man as she desperately tried to escape. At one point she managed to thump his knees so hard he toppled over, which soon became her opportunity. Quickly, before the other Death Eaters could catch her, Molly pointed her wand to the celling.

'BOMBARDA MAXIMA!'

BOOM!

An explosion of dust, rubble and timber erupted the kitchen, as the top floor fell onto of the Death Eaters and Molly's father. Thankfully, the witch had managed to burry herself back under the table, and had some sort of protection against the falling house — but her father and his friends were not so lucky. Molly squeezed her eyes tight as the sounds of snapping bones, screaming wizards and crushing bodies erupted all around her. When the chaos subsided, Molly rose, her breath corse and flaky.

Dust clung to her hair and clothes. She coughed, struggling to breathe in the dense air as she slowly stood up. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a bright blue light smacked into Molly's stomach and with a sickening thud, she doubled over and slammed onto the floor. Blood began to trickle down her right leg as a bright light flickered above her head. Looking back, Molly realised that her father had somehow managed to escape the blast and although covered in injuries, and a bloody head, he was still able to send hexes, spells and curses her way.

His face was bright red, almost as red as his hair, and for the first time in a long time, dread crept up on Molly. She had never seen her father so angry. As the witch crawled forward, her hand tightening on her wand, something trickled down her leg. Molly paused.

She was six months pregnant, still far too early to give birth, but as Molly quickly touched her leg, her eyes widened in horror when the came away bloody. She froze, ignoring her father's screaming shouts and the spells that shot above her head.

_She was bleeding!…_

_Her child was going to die!…_

Slowly, struggling with all her might, the witch crawled to the fireplace, as the house suddenly creaked. In the commotion, the Floo Powder pot had spilt over, causing the green sand to run down a fallen bookcase until it landed in a small pile near Molly's overturned rocking chair. Biting her lip, the witch surged forward, legs tumbling as a cutting spell ripped across her spine. She screamed, sending her own curse in her father's direction. But her aim was off and instead of hitting her father, it smashed the grandfather clock to smithereens. But it was enough to startle Gordon Prewett, that by the time he noticed what his daughter was doing it was too late.

Molly grades at the powder, clutching it for deer life as she sat up, and threw her handful into the burning fire. A bright green emerald light erupted in front of Molly, and before her father could even grab her, the witch had reached forward, sticking her hand in the cool, green flames.

'St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,' whispered Molly, and in a horrible instant, the witch was sucked into the fireplace as if she were a Hoover; her body spinning through the chimney.

Molly never heard her father's scream, when he realised his blood-traitor of a daughter was gone. All that was left that proved Molly Weasley née Prewett had been there, was splatters of blood, several strands of fiery red hair and the smell of burning timber as the Tudor house collapsed.

* * *

**December the 17th**

The gun felt heavy in Annis' grip, the jolt of the weapon curving in her grasp as she fired the weapon in the direction of a hooded man. The man ducked, pointing his rifle at her with a fiery determine as the pregnant woman ducked for cover, her black hair falling down her back in greasy tails. The woman breathed deeply through her nose, as a contraction ripped across her swollen stomach.

Swearing, Annis gave her tummy a rub and pulled her shoes off her swollen feet. She had been running for hours, her baby wriggling and writhing with each step she took, her contractions striking faster and faster until the young woman was sure she would crack. Although this was her ninth child, Annis cursed the babe with all her might for wanting to arrive at such a dangerous and inappropriate time. Annis snorted.

_Then again, when were babies ever born when they were meant to..._

The woman ducked back under the car as bullets peppered the street, her black eyes drifting over to her eldest son as he fired bullets through the car window, another gun in his hand. At eleven, Oisin was a rather stubborn child, with his mother's black hair and his father's blue eyes, he was stubborn and wild, a trait had had unfortunately gained from his mother, which was why he had completely ignored his mother's screams as he had leapt into the family car. He'd pushed Annis into the back seat, stuck his head out of the window and screamed at his sister, Anna, who was the eldest, to watch the others, before driving off.

They shouldn't have left the car, but as soon as the gang had noticed the bright headlights, they had opened fire. Screaming, and crying, the two had abandoned the vehicle, grabbing the two handguns Finnbar kept in the glovebox, and taken to Dublin's dark streets. But the streets were far more dangerous than the roads, and the two dodged in and out of the city's looming roads like pigs racing to slaughter, dodging bullets and firing their own whenever they could.

As Annis pulled her son to the ground, an explosion of electric blue light erupted across the city sky. Glancing up, Annis swore again, biting her lip to silence the scream that would have erupted from her throat as her son's accidental magic shone across the night like a flare. Oisin's eyes widened, and his body began to shake as if the prospect of revealing their world to Muggles was far worse then being shot by people from their own country.

'Hey,' Annis whispered, pulling her son into a warm hug as the bullets smacked against the shield, their angry attempts to break through the wall futile against her son's power. 'Hey, it's okay, everything is going to be all right. You were protecting yourself, that wasn't your fault.'

'But Ethel said—'

'I don't give a fuck what Ethel White said,' Annis whispered, the bright light of gunfire revealed her son's frightened face. 'She's never been gunned down by a bunch of lunatics. Now come on, that shield won't last for long,'

Gripping her son's hand, Annis pelted down the street, her stomach clenching with each breath. As the two reached the end of the high street, an explosion of blue shards shattered the air. Annis and Oisin were thrown to the ground as the magical energy ripped down the street, causing every light bulb, window and empty beer bottle to shatter into a billion deadly pieces. Oisin began to cry, his tanned face welling up into an ugly expression as thick tears ran down his face. Annis lifted her head. Blood ran down her son's face, mingling in his raven hair and her vision was blurry.

There was a sinking feeling in her gut as her shoulder suddenly exploded and behind her, as if someone had sunk her head underwater a loud bang echoed humbly. Her blood splattered the ground and a second later her son was screaming, screaming her name, screaming for her to stand to her feet and run. But everything was blurry, and her son's terrified face slid in and out of focus, her breath fluttering like a bird's wing as it took flight.

The baby kicked her, demanding to be let out and just as Annis was about to fall into unconsciousness, something warm and wooden was placed into her hand. The surge of magic that warmed her heart suddenly exploded throughout her body, her power of Nature and Transfiguration suddenly running through her blood like a hundred deadly sins. For a split second, the world stopped spinning, and her magic won the battle. Everything calmed, and the world slowed, revealing the fight that lay before her. Surprisingly her son had managed to erect another wall of magic, stopping the bullets from slicing through their skin, but the spell was weak, and wouldn't hold for long. Annis licked her lips.

What she did next would be dangerous, deadly and something that was banned by every mediwitch and wizard's book known to wizardkind — but in this instant, in an alleyway with her son's terrified face and her baby about to erupt from her like a volcano somewhere in Iceland, the witch would ignore her teaching, ignore her healer training and do the unthinkable.

Reaching forward, Annis cradled her son close to her body, pulling him underneath her as the bullets ripped through the shield. She screamed as another bullet hit her arm, her blood spurting into the night sky. Her son clutched her bleeding limb, trying desperately to stop the bleeding as his mother's blood ran through his fingers like a waterfall.

Gripping her hawthorn wand, the witch kissed her son's head, and before he could protest, she began to think of a clean hospital. She imagined the smell, the glowing's bubbles that floated above the patient's heads, and more importantly the waiting room. She had only been there once, when she had passed her medical examinations in Dublin, the young witch had to go to London to get a certificate from the Head Healer at the time, but that was a long time ago, and for the first time in her life, Annis wondered if this was a good idea.

You were never supposed to apparate between countries, for the dangers involved in magical teleportation was dangerous and deadly. If the two made it, they might end up with horrendous scars and possibly even be dead as they broke out of Ireland's words before charging into Britain's own security. The chances that they would live were few, but what else could she do? Dublin's magical hospice had long since been demolished by angry Muggles who had found the building tucked behind a greengrocer. She had no other options and they had run out of floo power, that was why they had tried to run to the Wizarding Council.

'Mam,' Oisin whispered. 'They're coming.'

'I know, love,' Annis whispered, pressing a kiss to her son's head. 'Just hold onto me. Hold onto me and whatever you do, don't let go,'

Oisin realised what his mother was about to do far too late, and as he tried to protest, Annis bit down on his shoulder in order to silence him in case his tongue was severed. Oisin's grip on her arm tightened as the two twisted away and as Annis concentrated on the hospital, she felt her chest constricting as her ribs caved in. Lights flashed in the two's vision, their sight cut off by the horrible whirring of bright, electrical lights as they passed over cities and countryside.

Annis screamed as a horrible burning feeling ripped across her body as the two smacked into the Irish boundaries, their exhausted, bloody forms pressing against the shield like birds caught in a net. Far in the darkness, Annis heard the blaring of alarms, the shield's defensive system kicking her in the head. Invisible hands reached out to grab mother and son, to bind them to the magical borders until the magical Irish government turned up.

Annis grunted, pressing her good shoulder against the spell as the sirens grew louder and her son began to shake. Something tugged at her mouth, forcing it to open as the invisible hands darted down her mouth. She bit and spat and screamed, and somehow she managed to remove the hands from her mouth. Annis snarled, flashing her teeth. Suddenly, another contraction ripped through her body and her heart fell as the familiar ache to push clouded her senses.

_She would not give birth on the fucking Irish border!..._

_She would not let her newborn child drop a thousand feet to its doom!..._

Clutching Oisin tighter, the mother of eight — almost nine — closed her eyes and tugged the ancient power that hung in her bones. There was a reason why her parents, Margret and Aengus O'Sullavan, had named her Annis, for in her family, past the witches and wizards of old, a dark and deadly secret lurked. While many witches and wizards assumed that the Hag who loved the taste of human flesh had died several centuries earlier, the O'Sullavan family knew the awful truth. While it was true that Black Annis had died by the hand of Lance Vaughan in the early sixteenth century, the elderly Hag had also given birth to a son. Although the years had lengthened, and the son never inherited his mother's deadly powers, his daughter's descendants had, and for better of worse, they had gained Black Annis' power.

Oisin's grip on his mother's slackened slightly as her body cracked, his nails digging into her skin as his mother's nails suddenly turned to iron shards. A dark power clung to the witch-hag's body, and as Annis, the eighth of that name, clutched her child and unborn baby close to her, she felt her power growing. The sirens were louder now, almost right next to her head, that as the daughter of Aengus and Margret battered the shield, she couldn't help smile.

A cry erupted from Oisin's lips as the two burst through the wards, spinning out of Ireland like a frisbee as they shot through the air. The next few seconds were full of curses, banging heads, and salty air before the two once again slammed into a second ward. This ward, although stronger than the ones built in Ireland, was unfamiliar with a descendent of Hags, and as such, was completely unprepared for Annis and Oisin O'Fae.

Adrenalin fuelled her magic, and the two suddenly exploded through the British barriers, tumbling headfirst past the London wards of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, before landing back-first on the hospital's cool floor. For several seconds, the two lay there, oblivious to the blood that ran down their necks or the scars that laced their bodies — that was until the healers approached them. They surrounded the two, and spoke in hurried, worried tones as Annis' body transformed back; for a short while, they did not know what to do.

Then a bloodied Oisin was removed from his mother, as a broad healer with large limbs gently lifted the pregnant woman off the ground and placed her on a stretcher. Oisin was placed on another, and as Annis opened her eyes, her heart almost stopped. Her son lay to the right of her, a healer quickly healing his head as the two O'Faes were led down the corridor. His eyes, once beautiful and blue, were gone, and in his place, two missing, bloodied holes sat.

Annis opened her mouth to scream, but the scream never came, and as the final contraction hit, the witch didn't know whether to cry or shout. Right now, her children were far more important than her.

'Mam!' Oisin wailed, hands outstretched as he tried to find him mother in the dark. 'Mam!'

But Annis could reply, for she could never speak again and as she tried to move her mouth she suddenly realised how sore she was, how sore her mouth was. The witch's eyes widened in surprised when she realised that her tongue was gone. Silent sobs fell down her face as the pain ripped across the spine, her silent screams for her son and her pain forever lost in a sea of dread. The last thing Annis saw before she lost consciousness was her son's empty, bloody eyes desperately trying to find his mother and the black haired head of the child that would forever change her life.

* * *

**Hi Reader's,**

**I'm not dead and** **I hope you've enjoyed this first chapter.**

**For those of you who are curious, each chapter will be a snippet of the two main character's lives, though each year they have. So for example, this chapter is '1970' and the next will be '1971,' and so on, right up until '1998'. I have several interesting characters, although most of them appear in the O'Fae Clan. If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me.**

**I own nothing other then the O'Fae family and the relationship between Bill and an OC.**

**Remember to favourite, follow and review this story, as it really helps me figure put what you hate and what you guys like.**

**From**

**Lily.**


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